The Space Between

Canyons and valleys

I can't reach you out there

With all the space between

Maybe life is suffering

But I thought there was more.

I've seen it here and there

Those other things I mentioned

It never lasts too long

And then I'm back again. 

I have to go away

In order to come back

I have to find a way

To find all that I lack.

Come find me in-between 

I'll save a place for you

We'll write our own brave story

And finally make it true.

Age

    People tell me that I look younger than I actually am sometimes. Growing up, I was an idealist. I did have confidence, outwardly at least. I come to realize in this dispute of mine over diagnoses that, regardless of the details, medication can only do so much. It's been quite a distraction, trying to understand what exactly the different medications are doing and what they aren't doing. 

    When I got diagnosed with the DID thing, I thought it was a chance to reinvent myself, to improve my life, but it hasn't quite turned out that way. Instead, I find myself brushing up against barriers that I was either unaware of or was trying to ignore. Ironically, I passed the CPA exam but it expired a good long while ago. I'm feeling my age in moving slower, responding slower, not having the same endurance. I have to be realistic. I don't know who I thought I was. But it's become clear I've been expecting too much from medication. 

    I feel like I've overestimated myself and seen life unrealistically. It's hard to unhear and unsee, it's hard to unknow. I think I need to reach into myself and find that inner solace to quiet my thoughts and simplify my life. My mind is too curious. It wants to tap all the wells. I need to be careful. My cat may have nine lives, but I think I have fewer. I came back from two comas, maybe I shouldn't push my luck. 

    I like to see the younger people taking a turn. Maybe they can do more than I could. I'm still looking for some part time work. I think Accountec is going to have to focus on the teaching, which is what I originally wanted to do with my accounting. I'm not sure what that looks like at this point. Social systems simply aren't easy to navigate. They are everywhere. I find writing much easier then actually talking. Strange how that works. Of course, it doesn't help that this implant makes talking a bit more difficult than I anticipated. Just another example of me overestimating medicine. 

    Every time I think I know what to do, someone or something proves me wrong. I should have been a simpler person. 

Dear Readers,

    I truly lack the ability to fully grasp the how's and why's of the past 28 years. But as the days go by and I see the effects of it all, it leads me to doubt the future. I feel the need, for my own wellbeing and safety, to step back more. I'm not honestly sure at this point where my confidence came from. Was it youth? Was it the medications? I don't feel that confidence anymore. I don't feel as durable. 

    I've expressed parts of me that I had kept more hidden, here for the world to see. Honestly, I was worried I was running out of time. I was worried that something might happen. Instead, it's been more of a slow sinking feeling. Seeing the contrast between the world as I see it, my internal world, and the world out there has been jarring. I'm tired of arguing with doctors. As much as I'd like to be right about myself, I'm tired of arguing. I'd hate to be like the NYC shooter guy and be like, study my brain after I die and find out the truth, but seriously, is it worth arguing? I'm leaving it alone. 

    My focus has not been great. Unfortunately, I can't fake it till I make it on that. Whether it's ADHD or whatever, I'm not going to argue and I'm not going to push the bounds of modern medicine any further. I'm going to reduce my presence a bit. I'm closing the tax part. I'm going to try to focus on tutoring and writing. Or maybe just writing. I've got to find one thing, one thing I am really, really good at, mysterious health issues and all. I'm getting too old. I have to think about my remaining time. I have to think about what I can give consistently, other than words. My focus is not strong enough, my health not stable enough, my interpersonal skills not effective enough to practice tax. 

Ashes

How Aspergers Became Autism (And all the confusion in-between)

    I wanted to review again the progression of my mental health from the 1990s to 2025. It's pretty clear to me now that the truth is that Bipolar is not real for me. Misdiagnosis and medical goobledy-gook dressed up to cover up poorly misunderstood Autism that was in fact diagnosed (As Aspergers) in the 1990s and then continuously overlooked and misinterpreted. I think the interpretation that I am paranoid or my self-diagnosis of FDIA is rather a symptom of all the misinterpretation that has happened. This is why I insist on Autism being the primary diagnosis: It is the one diagnosis that unambiguously has shown up for decades and consistently caused me problems. It is the clearest description of my symptoms, and in combination with some ADHD, can clearly explain my struggle. 

    What really tipped the scales for me was finding out that the same medications often prescribed for Bipolar mania also treat Autism spectrum symptoms. They were treating the symptoms but calling it something else. I have to insist on that stopping because Bipolar is in fact much different from Autism. 

    I do not have manic episodes. I have autistic episodes with ADHD. I do not have alternating episodes of depression and mania, I have a lot of frustration from misinterpretation, and I have unipolar depression.

    I do have trust issues with people that INSIST on talking about Bipolar, as if that is my name. The Bullshit has followed me long enough. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of the miseducation. These experts can't even agree, they might as well listen to me and stop this bipolar bullshit. It's not that autism is better, it's just NOT THE SAME THING. AUTISM. TRAUMA FROM BIPOLAR MISDIAGNOSTIC BS. Some ADHD. LEARN SOMETHING. That is the malpractice and the insurance fraud right there: insisting on a DX and ignoring the correct DX despite all evidence to the contrary. 

    It may seem like a small thing. But it has followed me for decades. I just want the correct DX on the chart, next to the correct name and the correct treatment. That's all. It's not helpful to misdiagnose. 

Fake it till you make it!

    I feel that when I was growing up, fake it till you make it seemed like a winning strategy. It seemed accepted. These days, some of the cracks in that philosophy seem more obvious. I feel like I hear more people talking about the importance of being genuine. 

    Fake it till you make it is most associated with a salesman known as Glenn W. Turner and is different from the psychological concept known as "acting as if" in that acting as if means to emulate qualities that you don't actually have such as confidence, but fake it till you make it is a philosophy that encourages dishonesty in social interactions in order to project a certain lifestyle or talent that isn't actually there. Presenting yourself as a great investor while hiding losses would be an example of fake it until you make it. Presenting yourself as confident while being honest about your performance would be acting as if. 

    Fake it till you make it goes hand in hand with Ableism.  The idea that you can do whatever you want, regardless of your limitations, just by changing what you believe and how you present. Nuerodyvergence isn't actually real, its just a mindset, so the thinking goes. It's a magical idea... but life is not a fairy tale.

Trade-offs and Mental Health

    The question I come to in mental health these days is: what is realistic? Is it realistic to push the doctors and the medications so hard that my doctors quit and the meds cause ER visits? Is that realistic? I said this because I can't be the only frustrated one. I think that I've pushed the limits of psychiatry pretty well, from the feedback I've gotten. 

    So what is realistic? What is realistic with autism-adhd plus whatever you want to call whatever the rest of it might be? I'm trying to find out. Realistically, my job is to do what I am able, no less and no more, just like anyone else I suppose. 

    I feel I've attracted so much controversy that it blows my mind how much controversy there is. I almost want to get retested just so they can verify that yes, facts are facts. Autism is real. ADHD is real. The rest of it is... whatever the rest of it is. I'm not going to argue. 

    I'm just so tired of people being so curious about my life. It's really not that interesting. I think most people would consider me somewhat boring. I have a few personal possessions, but it's really not what people make it to be. It's not a life to be envious of, unless you're starving and homeless. 

    I'd like to be less interesting. I'm really not that important. This is me being humble, being honest. My life is not some mythical thing. It is a person trying to get by. I do not have some secret plan. I don't think the doctors do either. We're just dealing with what we've got. Maybe some unrealistic expectations of what medicine can do. 

    I'd like to reiterate: 1. No, I don't have money, please stop asking. I'm not a bank. 2. Yes, I do have autism, it's a real thing. 3. Refer all other questions to someone else. I have enough of my own. I'm rather certain the doctors are doing everything they can. I think making someone repeat themselves should be categorized as a misdemeanor. I'm trying to focus on being thankful. 

Dear Psychiatry

Dear Psychiatry,

    The 90s are over. It's time to move into the 21st century. To that end, I would like to summarize and reiterate a few key points. Autism is very real and affects about 2.8% of the population, including me. ADHD is very real, and affects about 11.8% of kids and 4.4% of adults, including me. HIPPA is very real and is important for keeping medical records valid and useful. Without reliable medical records, we cannot take good care of the population. It's important that patients are able to have trust in their providers. 

    I am guilty of relying strongly on medication. This is not the same thing as drug addiction. I have at times expected too much of medication. Medication can be very dangerous. I hope to take mine safely and privately. 

    I do not know what the future holds, but I need it to look different from the past. It is not my responsibility to educate the world on how medication can be safely used or misused. It is not my responsibility to educate the world on clozapine's shortcomings as a medication. It is not my responsibility to explain the limitations of the bipolar model. It is also not my responsibility to allow these things to haunt me. I need to give up my medical guilt. I do hope that autism becomes increasingly understood. I hope that new therapies and treatments for autism advance. 

    I hope that I find peace and a place to thrive. This medical drama has taken too much of my time. I look forward to some peace. I look forward to some prosperity. I look forward to less time working on my medical situation. I look forward to fewer arguments with doctors. 

Ashes

Self-Image and Times of Crisis

    I feel like times of crisis can severely challenge self-image. Me, before all this happened, I thought I was the same things my counselor thinks I am: funny, nerdy, smart, odd, creative, autistic. Now I'm not sure what I am. At the hospital they seemed to see a different person. And I was in a dissociative episode, so I'm told, so maybe I was acting like a different person. It's hard to see myself the same again. It was a very strange experience in which I was conscious, but in an altered state of mind in which my memory and my emotions worked differently. It was similar to that time I had the car accident, and I was in a state of shock. It was very much like that. 

    The weird thing is, now I'm not sure how to act. I don't feel the same. I'm in the same place. I'm doing some of the same things. But my state of mind is different. Even my writing seems different. I'm not sure what to do with that.

Side Effects of Spravato and Ketamine

    While I will never regret trying ketamine, these medications have certain side effects that can be quite scary. The biggest one that I've encountered is the one that landed in the hospital: sudden changes in heart rate and blood pressure. That will freak you right the hell out. I don't know if these medications can cause heart attacks or strokes, but you feel your heart going like a percussion set on steroids, you feel the surge of the pressure, you're going to be calling 911 like I did. If you have any sense, that is. 

    When I left the spravato center, they didn't check the vitals. I remember feeling off. I remember refusing to answer questions. And then I ended up in the hospital. These things can be dangerous. But at the same time, they have helped me so much. That's why I advocate for really well controlled access in controlled conditions to these medications. So that people can get relief in safe ways. I should have stayed at the center longer. I should not have left before they thoroughly checked me out. 

     I do hope that life is meant to be beautiful. For me, though it may not be apparent, it has been a struggle and at times very dark. I want it to be beautiful. I want it to have happiness. I want it to be gentle and kind. I do not want strife. So, I am working on smoothing some of my rougher edges and increasing my tolerance. I am doing this so that life can seem more beautiful, and less like a war. I do get angry when people assume they know me or what it is like to be me, as if it is easy, as if I don't know what it is like to stare into the face of an abyss. I do know. I don't wish to agonize over the depravity, hate and struggle in this world anymore then I have to. I hate arguing. I just want to be. 

    I'd like to thank all the little rodents. They're quite tasty with a bottle of A-. I'd also like to thank the nurses and the doctors, while reminding everyone that we're all human (or vampiric bat, or Spider, or, well, you know...) and we all have our strengths and weaknesses, good times and bad. 

    I'm taking some time to review the site, after a bit of a cooling off period, some better sleep, and improved sinuses. I'm trying to get it in shape for showing ads. I need to focus, so I've improved my boundaries around online harassment, scammers, and beggars, because God knows I'm not a rich person and I have my own problems. My property is now protected by Vivint Security, to further discourage disruptive behavior. I do not have the finances, the will, the desire, or the time to put up with BS. 

The Knowledge Tree

 

   Once upon a time, a sickly young boy was walking a field in the village of Green Vale and came upon a medicine man. The medicine man was busy tending a tree by the River of Reeds. The tree was storied and old and stood taller than the others. As the boy approached, the man paused his pruning and greeted this stranger.

    "Hello, young man, what troubles you?" 

    The boy explained that he was of the Furlat tribe and was said to be diseased of the mind. He acted different, he did not fit in. Did the medicine man know of anyone that could help?

    The man gave him a kindly smile, picked a leaf from the tree. "Eat this leaf of knowledge. It makes your mind strong again."

    The boy took the leaf and ate it and felt better. 

    "Now eat this acorn of medicine, it makes your body healthy."

    Over time, the medicine man taught him everything he knew about the knowledge tree. They passed the days together, tending it in isolation. They became so alike that they became known by the same name. Yet the sickness persisted, though he ate of the knowledge tree regularly.

    One day he saw some women tending a bush further down. The bush was queer looking and thick, with colorful leaves and strange berries. 

    What's that bush called, asked the boy, now a man.

    The medicine man was old by then and tired but looked upon his pupil with kind eyes. "That is the bush of common sense, and those are the women that tend it. The berries are potent and strange, like that of a weed. They change your mind and make you obstinate. That bush has torn apart families and good friends at times. Be careful of the bush, my friend, but if you feel that you need it, talk to the woman tending it, and she will tell the story."

    So the man went and he talked to the woman a great deal and ate of the leaves of the bush of common sense. He even tried the berries which gave him thoughts that he found unusual. 

    The other medicine men were quite incensed, and they called upon the village elders at the medicine center to have the boy locked up. 

    "This boy is out of control!" They said. "He has eaten of the bush and its berries and now he questions his former master! He must be addicted to the bush or fornicating with the women!"

     The man's former teacher had retired, have long tended the knowledge tree and seeking his rest. It was only the upstart who stood against the college of medicine men.

    So, they took the upstart and interned him at the medicine college. There they proceeded to berate him and instruct that he was now an addict and needed to learn his place. "They will not take you back!" the medicine men warned. "You are an addict and a criminal!"

    The man became very embittered, and when they released him he returned to the women tending the bush. They did not believe the lies of the medicine men, saw the truth in-between: That the man was doing as he always had done, learning and relying on the teachers and the garden to nourish him and make him strong. And the women took him back. 

    He continued to eat of the bush of common sense, as well as the old knowledge tree he had relied on. He only hoped that the medicine men saw the errors of their ways and overcame their ignorance and arrogance. But only time would answer that. 

Emotional Numbing

 Emotional Numbing

Trust Issues vs Paranoia

    Trust issues and paranoia are both forms of mistrust, but they differ in their origins and impact. Trust issues are often rooted in past experiences where trust was broken, leading to habitual behaviors of distrust. They can manifest in various relationships and may involve behaviors like constant checking or suspicion. Paranoia, on the other hand, is characterized by irrational suspicion and intense fear of betrayal, often without a clear origin story. It can feel heavier and more detached from reality, making it difficult to interpret neutral or uncertain situations as genuine threats. Understanding the difference between these two can help individuals seek the appropriate support or therapy.

Trust Issues

 'Trust Issues': Signs, Causes, and How to Overcome Distrust

The more I review the past the more I question what I know. I think it's important to be realistic in life. Autism isn't a death sentence, but does come with definite and rather permanent differences... Differences in communication, perception, and comprehension. I need to focus more. Accounting will never be what I wanted it to be. I don't have the mental integration and the capacity. I can't keep chasing shadows. I'm still good at writing. I can give the world my words. Because I believe the standardized testing results, even if others wish to deny those results. Someone with impaired recall, adhd, autism, and psychological problems is not destined to have a great deal of success in business. If I truly could choose to not have problems, then the world would indeed be simpler. But from what Im being told, that's not in the cards. I realize there is still some disagreement amongst the professionals, but only on the finer details.

Some people, they just don't get it, and never will. I need to focus on my writing. Leave the past behind. I can't wish it back. I cant pretend it back. I cant rewrite it back. I cant medicate it back.

    I've been thinking a lot. Again, when the hospital mentions jail and restraining orders, it seems like a good time to think. Life hasn't exactly gone smoothly, and it's a bit of a mindfuck at times. 

    The funny thing is, in college I was so boring. Barely ever had alcohol, my social circle was a church group. I wasn't the greatest student; I spent a lot of time working on my computer. Eventually I built a custom liquid cooled rig, after graduate school. I don't understand people so well. I was not captain of the cross-country team for very long in high school, it all started coming apart in junior year. I used to write fiction to cope, but I didn't share much of it. I wasn't very confident in my work. I blended into "the background" so often. It seemed like I was living that song every day almost. Seems like so many missed opportunities. I did not find my place. When you spend so much time alone, maybe it looks paranoid. 

    Counseling involves more direct communication. Makes things simpler. Less reading between the lines. I like technology, too. It makes sense to me and makes my life easier communication wise. I'm so much better at visual communication. Not everyone likes that. They don't understand my desire to communicate in writing. They sometimes seem to resent my use of texting/messaging and other written communication. But if anyone is ever going to know me other than my counselor, I have to communicate. So, I leave these words for people who want to know, like a message in a bottle. 

    For those for wish to know the God's honest truth of my life, here it is: I'm a nerdy guy with autism spectrum. I never found my place. Yet here I am. I'm still trying to find my way. I've been quiet. That was always my way. The world is not a predictable place. It's easy to get lost. I'm trying to understand where I am going, because it's not clear. To me, anyways. And the number of opinions can make your head spin. 

We decided to try vyvanse again. I'm waiting for the pharmacy to get it in stock. That and increased mirtazapine for sleep, and a new machine for cpap therapy, which is on order. I'm hoping the vyvanse will help with the restless. 

    I've been giving my professionals feedback on how to help me. The biggest feedback is to simply hear my feedback. What all is right and wrong upstairs may be a matter of debate, but I'm not a child anymore. I for one am glad I got off Clozaril. It's been rough, but I know it was right for me. 

    Today I have the Sleep doc and the head doc as I continue my "health care journey". Sleep's been around 6 hours and I'm trying to fine tune my focus. 

    I think independence of thought is important, and that's hard to do within the system. Sometimes there's too many wheels bumping up against each other to keep them all moving in the same direction. That's why I like independent contracting and small teams. So long as each team keeps within the general ruleset, small teams can wiggle a little and still stay in line. 

    I can't jump on too many bandwagons. I'm getting myself down to a system that works for me. I feel like I expressed my concerns and adjusted my circles and boundaries. Perhaps now everything starts falling into place. In the meantime, regarding the scammers, I'll stay in touch with law enforcement as needed and screen my communications more carefully. 

Remember, Sarah, find Jess, don't come back with hospital supplies.

Scammers

I hate Scammers. They're always coming up with new ideas. Tonight I got contacted by one, said they were going to pay me to use my photo for some art. Then they sent me a check, started ordering to send money here and there or they would report me to FBI. eventually I had to call police. They said to block all the numbers. So I did. Bank must be wondering wtf. Now I have to contact mauldin police if I get contacted again. I wish these people would find something else to do. I'm trying to get work. I don't need this stress.

Verbal Combat

Hard words delivered fast in a fury of certainty

Melt back to the corners of my consciousness slowly

When the fool marches forth with his lecturing and monotony

I pause lest I respond too fast.

My silence they mistake for weakness or impropriety,

But it is only a measured response to their haste

For there is no sense in speaking often and loudly

To a man whose ears are wide yet shut.

Words without impact carry no value

I save mine for when the time is right

And if that time never comes for us

I let retreating footsteps say what remains. 

 

Wake up Greenville County! This is your FABORITE brown recluse! SPIDEY!!!!

Then there's that other story MIP doesn't like so much...

 It was like 20 years ago. I had been there too much. I got bored. I don't think they had cameras back then, and the fence wasn't watched as carefully. It didn't have the rounded top, either. There was a corner, behind the wall. Staff wasn't looking, I went behind the wall, jumped that fence, and came around to the visitor's entrance, tried to visit myself. They were like, Ashes, get back in there. 

 Ive been a little dark and unfocused, but I'm doing better with the anger and the isolation. Hopefully, I'll have some work soon.